


That One Kiss

by greekowl87



Series: Tumblr Prompts [30]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s06e10 Tithonus, F/M, MSR, Post-Episode: s06e10 Tithonus, post ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 09:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17599118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: Another post ep Tithonauns fic from Mulder's POV. Angst, fluff, and MSR.





	That One Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> 3\. Kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person - submitted by @momdadimpoppunk

Mulder had been in the archives researching the lead for Scully when he knew something was wrong. He had felt the sharp stabbing pain in his gut like a knife carving out a piece of him. The pain had been so much that he had dropped the files to the ground. He knew then something was horribly wrong. He had only had felt something similar to this twice in his life: Scully’s abduction and cancer.

He wasn’t a big believer in fate despite being a believer in UFOs and little gray men. He learned to believe after Samantha’s abduction. He was open to any alternative to the truth; anything to keep a glimmer of hope alive. Ever since he met Scully, it gave him reason to hope but for a different reason. After Antarctica and everything that had conspired the past summer, she stuck with him. She was his reason he still went into the FBI every day even after they had lost everything. It was small things. A humorous smile for a sly joke slipped between background interviews. Companionable solidarity as they chased fertilizer leads across the country. He never asked why but he never took her for granted.

But right now, Mulder knew something wrong. Very wrong. He didn’t care if Kerch would chew his ass out or burn him at the stake. He needed to go to New York right now.

… …

The phone call came right before the jet left for Laguardia. 

Mulder drove his car to the airport, grabbed the backup overnight bag he kept in the trunk of his car, and paid with his own credit card for the quickest flight to New York. He picked the phone up on the first ring, somehow already knowing what the phone call was about. There was no greeting or anything. Straight to the point.

“Is this Fox Mulder?”

Mulder recognized that tone of voice. It came from a woman this time but it was just like all the others. Short and to the point. No friendly chit chat or scorning. Just getting the job done.

“This is.”

“Sir, I have you listed as the next of kin for a one Dana Scully? Is that correct.”

“It is.”

“Sir, Agent Scully was brought in earlier this afternoon with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. She’s currently in surgery.”

“What hospital is she staying at,” he demanded.

“Sir, it’s really too soon to tell or jump on a flight to New York.”

“I’m already here. What hospital is she at?”

“St. Catherine’s in Manhattan but as I told you there really is no need now.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

Mulder hung up and shoved his cellphone into his pocket without another thought. Taxi, taxi, taxi, Mulder thought desperately. Despite all their cases, his time at the FBI, and growing up on the Vineyard, he had only been to Manhattan a handful of times. He found the taxi zone and promptly ordered one straight to the hospital. As the cabbie drove, Mulder stared listlessly out the window as his brain went through countless scenarios on what could have gone wrong. Gunshot. Surgery. Was it serious? Life-threatening? Or just a scratch?

By the time he reached the hospital, Mulder was no less calm. 

He demanded information, made a scene, and almost got escorted from the hospital despite him waving his badge. Between this chaos, he was able to discern a few things: abdominal gunshot wound that should have killed her, and fired by Agent Ritter. Eventually, he was directed to the third floor, the surgery ward wherein the waiting area he found the little shit Agent Ritter. Mulder felt a burning rage. Rage against Them that orchestrated Scully’s abdication. Rage against the Smoking Man who could have cured her cancer. Rage against sonofabitch Agent Ritter for getting trigger happy and shooting Scully before even identifying the proper suspect. The difference was this time, Ritter was real and corporal in front of him. He had someone to work out his rage. He could do something.

Without the care of the consequences or what may happen, Mulder dropped his overnight bag and flew to Agent Ritter, slamming him against the wall as the picture shook. Ritter tried to struggle against him but Mulder had the element of surprise and physics on his side. Pushing his arm into Ritter’s neck, he barked, “How could you shoot another agent? Are you that stupid? Scully was right there and you shot her!”

Ritter gasped for breath. “Accident…it was…an accident.”

“Fuck that! You almost killed her!”

“Accident…”

He was so angry and desperate to do something. His rage withered and he through Ritter against the wall. “Fucking bastard,” he spat. “Get lost before I do something I regret.”

Mulder should have been reported or even arrested but Ritter bit his lip, nodded, and slouched away down the hall towards the elevator. Mulder ran his hands through his hair in anger. There wasn’t anything else to do but wait.

… … .

Seconds ticked away on the large white clock. 

The big hand inched around full circle as the little hand slowly slouched toward one a.m. How long had Mulder been here? How long had Scully been in surgery? He had pulled his tie loose and tossed his jacket over his bag.

There had been no news. He watched the hospital staff and random strangers walking the halls like ghosts. Mulder began to make up stories for everyone he saw. Skinny man was a magician that didn’t tell anyone. That nurse cross stitched cats on everything. He smiled sadly at the game he used to play with Scully. There was a doctor approaching him now. He was different from everyone else as he came towards Mulder a purpose. He looked tired and disheveled but smiled at the FBI agent. 

“Agent Mulder?”

“Yes. Is Scully all right?”

The old doctor smiled. “Agent Scully is very, very lucky to be alive.” He took a deep breath and took off his glasses. “The bullet entered right above the stomach. Hit the spleen. I’m not going to coat it lightly. She should have hemorrhaged on the apartment, in the ambulance, or on my table. She should have died but she never stopped breathing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What do you mean you’ve never seen anything like it?” Brief memories of an old man from the archived files flashed in his head. “She’s alive, right?”

“She should have died instantly.” The doctor snapped his fingers for emphasis. “But she wouldn’t give up. Just came out of surgery in the last hour. She’s in recovery and then we’ll be moving her to a room if nothing happens in the next hour.”

“I want to stay.”

“Agent Mulder, she could wake up now or 24 hours from now. I recommend you get some sleep.”

“I want to be the first thing that she sees when she wakes up.”

The exhausted doctor stared at Mulder for a moment before nodding. “I’ll have the nurse come get you when we move her.”

… … .

The staff moved Scully sometime around three a.m to a private room. The nurses must have taken pity on Mulder because they left him with a blanket and small pillow to use with the recliner that was in the private room. By four a.m, Scully was still passed out and Mulder made a vain attempt to get comfortable by turning the room’s tv on low and stretching his lanky body out in the chair next to her. He reached for her hand and simply held it.

Mulder turned onto his side slightly and watched as the early morning light began to show through the blinds. The rays danced across Scully’s face and mused red hair. He thought he could already seeing color coming back to her face. The steady beat of her heart on the monitor lulled his exhausted mind asleep.

… … . .

Mulder dreamed of kissing Scully.

He dreamed of her a lot ever since the first time he had almost lost her the first time. His own dreams began to grow more adventurous. He would kiss her so much that his own body would curve around her. He dreamed of kissing her like there was no tomorrow. She suffered so much and she deserved the world. She deserved everything. Mulder dreamed of showing Scully how much he cared for her, wanted her, and how much she deserved better. From him, from everyone. Of course, in his dreams, he was able to do it right and take care of her. But not in real life. A new image of Scully appeared in his dreams, bloody, crumpled, and starring lifelessly off into the distance.

No, no, no!

He dropped to his knees and pressed his hands to her abdominal wound. The blood leaked through his fingers. Her eyes looked for him and he saw fear. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Scully, you hear me? We’re going to be okay.”

“Mulder,” she whispered. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid.”

“I know, I know.” His mind raced as he pulled her against him. “You don’t die though, Scully. The doctor said you are going to be fine.”

“Mulder, I saw him. I saw death.”

“Stop talking like that.” He could feel his own tears running hot down his face. “You can’t leave like this. It isn’t fair to either of us.”

“Tell me. “Her weak bloody hand cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. “Tell me, Mulder.”

“I love you,” he whispered and kissed her as if that was enough to save her.

… ….

Something was weakly squeezing Mulder’s hand as he awoke from his nightmare. He jumped awkwardly in the recliner but the weak hand grasp anchored him. He immediately remembered his bedridden partner who was likely still asleep and unconscious. He turned his bewildered gaze onto Scully who, beneath the hospital blankets and machinery, watched him sleepily.

“You were talking in your sleep.” Her voice sounded so small. “I would have woken you but you kept saying, ‘I love you.’ I thought you might have been dreaming about sunflower seeds.”

“No,” he said through his laughter. Tears were streaming down his cheeks again and he didn’t know why. “You’re awake.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Of course I am.” She tried to shift in the hospital bed and winced in pain. “Where am I?”

“Still New York.”

Mulder got up, never letting go of her hand. He could not contain himself anymore. He bowed over her and kissed her. Within the kiss, he poured ever possible emotion and feeling he had for her. Scully pulled him closer as much as her injuries would allow. “Wow,” she chuckled. “Talk about the breath of life.”

“I almost lost you,” he whispered. He sat on the edge of the bed. “I should have been there.”

Scully watched him as he tried to get comfortable next to her on the bed and shifted this way and that, left and right, until she stilled him with her other hand. “Just be here now, Mulder.” She looked down to her abdomen where under the blanket hid her hospital gown, the bandage, and her wound. “I imagine you have already given Ritter a piece of your mind.”

He gave a weak smile. “I’m surprised I’m still here.”

She nodded. “You were crying too in your sleep.”

“Just a bad dream. It’s better now.” Mulder did not care anymore and threw caution to the wind. He kissed her again and again. “I’m just glad you are going to be okay.”

Scully smiled weakly and encouraged him to lounge back beside her. He gave her an easy smile and nuzzled her hair. Both of them turned their gaze to the window and the morning light. “Do you want me to close the blinds for you, Scully so you can get some more sleep?”

“No, this is good. This is perfect.”


End file.
